"I am now addressing myself more particularly to you, my friend. You are young, enterprising, gifted with an iron constitution and an energetic will. I am convinced, that if death does not thwart your plans, you will succeed, whatever may be the enterprise you undertake, or the objects you propose to yourself. In the life you are about to begin, the principal cause of success, I may say almost the only one, is a thorough knowledge of the ground on which you are about to manoeuvre, and the society you propose entering. If, on my entrance upon that adventurous life, I had possessed the good fortune of meeting a friend willing to initiate me into the mysteries of my new existence, my fortune would have been made five years earlier. What no one did for me I am willing to do for you. Perhaps, at a later date you will be grateful for the information I have given you, and which will serve as your guide in the inextricable maze you are about to enter. In the first place, lay down this principle: the people among whom you are about going to live are your natural enemies. Hence you will have to support a daily, hourly struggle. All means must appear to you good to emerge from the battle a victor. Lay on one side your notions of honour and delicacy. In America they are vain words, useless even to make dupes, from the very simple reason that no one believes in them. The sole deity of America is gold. To acquire gold the American is capable of everything; but not, as in old Europe, under the cloak of honesty, and by roundabout process, but frankly, openly, without shame, and without remorse. This laid down, your line of conduct is ready traced. There is no project, however extravagant it may appear, which in that country does not offer chances of success; for the means of execution are immense, and almost impossible of control. The American is the man who has best comprehended the strength of association: hence it is the lever by means of which his schemes are carried out. On arriving there alone, without friends or acquaintances, however intelligent and determined you may be, you will be lost, because you find yourself alone in the face of all."

"That is true," the count muttered with conviction.

"Patience!" the baron replied with a smile. "Do you think I intend to send you into action without a cuirass? No, no, I will give you one, and magnificently tempered, too, I assure you."

All those present looked with amazement on this man, who had grown enormously in their esteem in a few moments. The baron feigned not to perceive the impression he produced, and in a minute or so he continued, laying a stress on every word, as if wishful to engrave it more deeply on the count's memory: —

"Remember what I am about to tell you; it is of the utmost importance for you not to forget a word, my friend; from that positively depends the success of your trip to the New World."

"Speak – I am not losing a syllable!" the count interrupted him with a species of febrile impatience.

"When strangers began to flock to America, a company of bold fellows was formed without faith or law, and without pity as without weakness, who, denying all nationality, as they issued from every people, only recognised one government, that which they themselves instituted on Tortoise Island, a desolate rock, lost in the middle of the ocean – a monstrous government; for violence was at its basis, and it only admitted of right being might. These bold companions, attached to each other by a Draconian charter, assumed the name of Brethren of the Coast, and were divided into two classes – the Buccaneers and the Filibusters.

"The buccaneers, wandering, through the primeval forests, hunted oxen, while the filibusters scoured the seas, attacking every flag, plundering every vessel under the pretext of making war on the Spaniards, but in reality stripping the rich for the benefit of the poor – the only means they discovered to restore the balance between the two classes. The Brethren of the Coast, continually recruited from all the rogues of the new world, became powerful – so powerful, indeed, that the Spaniards trembled for their possessions, and a glorious King of France did not disdain to treat with them, and send an ambassador to them. At last, through the very force of circumstances, like all powers which are the offspring of anarchy, and consequently possess no inherent vitality, when the maritime nations recognised their own strength, the Brethren of the Coast grew gradually weaker, and finally disappeared entirely. By forcing them into obscurity, it was supposed that they were not merely conquered, but annihilated; but it was not so, as you shall now see. I ask your pardon for this long and tedious prologue, but it was indispensable, so that you should better comprehend the rest I have to explain to you."

"It is nearly half past four," observed the count; "we have not more than forty minutes left us."

"That period, though so short, will be sufficient," the baron answered. "I resume my narrative. The Brethren of the Coast were not destroyed, but transformed. They yielded with extraordinary cleverness to the exigencies of that progress which threatened to outstrip them: they had changed their skin – from tigers they had become foxes. The Brethren of the Coast were converted into Dauph'yeers. Instead of boldly boarding the enemies' ships, sword and hatchet in hand, as they formerly did, they became insignificant, and dug mines. At the present day the Dauph'yeers are the masters and kings of the New World; they are nowhere and everywhere, but they reign; their influence is felt in all ranks of society; they are found on every rung of the ladder, but are never seen. They detached the United States from England; Peru, Chili and Mexico, from Spain. Their power is immense, the more so because it is secret, ignored and almost denied, which displays their strength. For a secret society to be denied existence is a real power. There is not a revolution in America in which the influence of the Dauph'yeers does not step forward valorously, either to insure its triumph or to crush it. They can do everything – they are everything: without their golden circle nothing is possible. Such have the Brethren of the Coast become, in less than two centuries, by the force of progress! They are the axis round which the New World revolves though it little suspects it. It is a wretched lot for that magnificent country to have been condemned, ever since its discovery, to undergo the tyranny of bandits of every rank, who seem to have undertaken the mission of exhausting her in every way, while never giving her the chance of liberating herself."

There was a lengthened silence: each was reflecting on what he had just heard. The baron himself had buried his face in his hands, and was lost in that world of ideas which he had evoked, and which now assailed him in a mass with sensations of mingled pain and bitterness.

The distant sound of a rapidly approaching vehicle recalled the count to the gravity of the situation.

"Here is my chaise," he said. "I am about to set out, and I know nothing."

"Patience!" the baron replied. "Take leave of your friends, and we will start."

Yielding, in spite of himself, to the influence of this singular man, the count obeyed, without dreaming of offering the slightest opposition. He rose, embraced each of his old friends, exchanged with them hearty hand-shakings, received their auguries of success, and left the room, followed by the baron.

The post-chaise was waiting in front of the house. The young men had opened the windows, and were waving fresh adieux to their friend. The count turned a long look on the Boulevard. The night was gloomy, though the rain no longer fell; the sky was black; and the gas-jets glinted feebly in the distance like stars lost in a fog.

"Farewell," he said in a stifled voice, "farewell! Who knows whether I shall ever return?"

"Courage!" a stern voice whispered in his ear.

The young man shuddered: the baron was at his side.

"Come, my friend," he said, as he helped him to enter the carriage, "I will accompany you to the barrier."

The count got in and fell back on a cushion.

"The Normandy road," the baron shouted to the postilion, as he shut the door.

The driver cracked his whip, and the chaise started at a gallop.

"Good-by, good-by!" the young men loudly shouted as they leant out of the windows of the Café Anglais.

For a long time the two remained silent. At length the baron took the word.

"Gaëtan!" he said.

"What would you?" the latter replied.

"I have not yet finished my narrative."

"It is true," he muttered distractedly.

"Do you not wish me to end it?"

"Speak, my friend."

"In what a tone you say that, my good fellow! Your mind is wandering in imaginary space; you are doubtlessly dreaming of those you are leaving.

"Alas!" murmured the count with a sigh, "I am alone in the world. What have I to regret? I possess neither friends nor relations."

"Ungrateful man!" The baron said in a reproachful tone.

"It is true: Pardon me, my dear fellow; I did not think of what I was saying."

"I pardon you, but on condition that you listen to me."

"I promise it."

"My friend, it you desire success, the friendship and protection of those Dauph'yeers I mentioned are indispensable for you."

"How can I obtain them – I, a wretched stranger? How I tremble on thinking of the country in which I dreamed of creating such a glorious future! The veil that covered my eyes is fallen. I see the extravagance of my projects, and all hope abandons me."

"Already?" exclaimed the baron sternly. "Child without energy, to abandon a contest even before having engaged in it! Man without strength and courage! I will give you the means, if you like, of obtaining the friendship and protection so necessary for you."

"You!" the count said, quivering with excitement.

"Yes, I! Do you fancy I have been amusing myself with torturing your mind for the last two hours, like the jaguar plays with the lamb, for the mere pleasure of deriding you? No, Gaëtan. If you had that thought, you were wrong, for I am fond of you. When I learned your scheme I applauded, from the bottom of my heart, that resolution which restored you to your proper place in my mind. When you this night frankly avowed to us your position, and explained your plans, I found myself again in you; my heart beat; for a moment I was happy: and then I vowed to open to you that path so wide, so great, and so noble, that if you do not succeed, it will be because you do not desire to do so."

"Oh!" the count said energetically, "I may succumb in the contest which begins this day between myself and humanity at large, but fear nothing, my friend; I will fall nobly like a man of courage."

"I am persuaded of it, my friend. I have only a few more words to say to you. I, too, was a Dauph'yeer, and am so still. Thanks to my brethren, I gained the fortune I now possess. Take this portfolio: put round your neck this chain, from which a medallion hangs; then, when you are alone, read these instructions contained in the portfolio, and act as they prescribe. If you follow them point for point, I guarantee your success. That is the present I reserved for you, and which I would not give you till we were alone."

"O heavens!" the count said with effusion.

"Here we are at the barrier," the baron remarked, as he stopped the carriage. "It is time for us to separate. Farewell, my friend! Courage and good will! Embrace me. Above all, remember the portfolio and the medallion."

The two men remained for a long time in each other's arms. At length the baron freed himself by a vigorous effort, opened the door, and leaped out on the pavement.

"Farewell!" he cried for the last time; "Farewell, Gaëtan, remember me."

The post-chaise was bowling along the high road at full speed. Strange to say, both men muttered the same word, shaking heads with discouragement, when they found themselves alone – one walking at full speed along the footpath, the other buried in the cushions.

That word was "Perhaps!"

The reason was that, despite all their efforts to deceive each other, neither of them hoped.